


waiting room

by CallofTheCurlew



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Broken Bone, M/M, Medical!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 01:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16254116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallofTheCurlew/pseuds/CallofTheCurlew
Summary: Dan runs the front desk at A&E. Phil broke his wrist, but sometimes talking to people is hard.





	waiting room

It’s been a slow morning.  

At times like this, Dan hates his job. It’s 2am and the waiting room is full of people who have complaints that, for the most part, can wait until they can see their doctors in the morning. That’s his opinion, at least. It’s not _always_ an emergency. It’s one of those thoughts he has but would never say out loud, except maybe to the nurses out the back. He gets that people have pain and he understands that nights are long and dealing with pain through them is hard, but honestly… being in pain at home is surely more comfortable than being in a hospital?

This morning, nobody seems on the edge of death. As morbid as it sounds, the most interesting nights are when things _happen._ He hates dealing with sprained ankles and coughs or snoring.

Working here has really made him a cynic, and a shard of guilt stabs through him.

Not everyone knows that what they have isn’t going to kill them. Maybe sometimes it will. Maybe Dan is a jerk for even begrudging people who come in...

He shakes his head of the thoughts and goes back to staring at his computer screen, still bored. Nobody has even called in a while. Usually they want advice on if they should come in or not, but not even that has come through in a few hours.

The waiting room isn’t very busy either. There’s an occasional kid that runs through, but other than that it’s fairly dead. Not literally though, because Dan very quickly had to get out of the habit of making _those_ jokes.

He has filing to do, of course, but that’s so _boring_. He’s mostly up to date, anyway, and he’s just been dragging files back and forth across his screen for the last ten minutes to make it look like he’s actually doing something.

He taps his pen. He rocks back and forth on his chair. He does a headcount in the waiting room to make sure everyone is still there. He glances at the clock. It’s only been fifteen minutes.

“Bored are we, Mr Howell?”

Dan jumps in surprise but it’s only Nurse Calligan, who is virtually the mum of the ward. She looked after Dan when he first started in the job, fresh out of school and absolutely terrified..

“A bit,” he says honestly, because he’s allowed to complain to her, “Nothing too interesting.”

“Well, everyone currently suffering apologises for not suffering enough to warrant coming in tonight,” she says with a kind smile, but it doesn’t sit well and Dan can feel the guilt stirring in his stomach again. He really is a jerk.

She’s out of the room as quickly as she entered it - the nurses don’t ever seem to be bored here - and Dan wishes he could hurry up his studies and join her. He’s still half a year away from even being allowed to be in the same room as a patient on practical, but he still wishes.  

The front doors suddenly struggle open with a rattle - Dan scribbles a little reminder in his notebook to tell the maintenance man about it - and in walks a young man. He looks a little older than Dan; pale - though that might be the hospital lights - and his eyes are red and constantly flitting around the room. He looks nervous, pulling both hoodie sleeves down over his hands.

Dan is immediately suspicious, watching him through narrowed eyes as he hovers.

“Can I help you?” he asks through the little gap.

Dan’s seat is behind a glass wall - for safety - with a little slit to speak through, and an opening below for forms or cash or identification. He always feels a weird disconnect between himself and the patient, having to speak through the box.

The young man immediately flushes red - probably embarrassed at being noticed - and shakes his head, “Nopejustwaitingforsomeonethanks.”

It takes Dan about five extra seconds to decipher the words that flew from his mouth and he blinks for a moment, before nodding, “Ah, no problem.”

Dan watches him walk around the room before selecting a seat away from everyone else. It’s anti-social behaviour and Dan’s eyes flick to the sign on the wall just for reassurance. Security is just down the hall, but it’s not like the man has done anything. Perhaps he _i_ _s_ just waiting for a friend, but still. He  _is_ shady, and the red-rimmed eyes aren’t helping.

 

Half an hour later and the boy is still sitting there. His head is bowed and he’s cradling one arm. Dan can’t tell if he’s crying or cold or going through withdrawal, but he trembles occasionally and Dan thinks he hears a sniff. Sometimes he’s active, looking around - especially in Dan’s direction - and sometimes Dan even thinks he might stand. But he doesn’t. He just bounces his leg and seems to be fretting over _something_.

Dan is getting more and more suspicious but again, there’s no behaviour that would warrant him calling security.

He’s tempted to go and speak to him but he knows better than to leave the safety of his reception area. The training about that he received was basic enough that he would get in _so much_ trouble if he tried it.

Nurses come in and out, and Dan distracts himself by _actually_ organising files. He processes other people, triaging their conditions by need and putting them into the queue to be seen tonight, as he’s been trained. People come and go, but the man remains in the corner.

It’s another half hour later before the man finally stands up and makes his way to the reception desk, but even then he seems to stall, not quite reaching the desk.

“Still waiting for your friend?” Dan asks kindly, despite the fact that he’s still wary.

The man hesitates, and beneath the fringe of hair - one not unlike the one Dan has - Dan can see that the redness isn’t from drugs - they’re puffy from crying. He’s so pale he looks sick. He regrets ever judging the poor guy. He was _always_ so quick to judge...

“Um…” his voice is shaky, and he’s still cradling that arm, “Um, I need to see a doctor I think.”

Dan slips into his professional persona, barely even registering that he does it; sitting up straighter with his fingers poised on the keyboard, “You think?”

“My wrist-” he winces, shaking his head, “It’s okay, never mind. I’ll be fine. Sorry to have wasted your time…”

“Hey, hey, hold on,” Dan almost stands, full of genuine concern this time. This man doesn’t seem fine, “You just sat in the waiting room for an hour. Do you actually have a friend in here somewhere you’re seeing?”

The boy pulls his sleeves down further over his hands and gasps a little in pain, trembling slightly and shaking his head sheepishly. He hides his face with his hair, unable to look Dan in the eye.

“How come you think you need to see a doctor? I’m here to help, okay? What’s your name?” Dan says gently. There’s something wrong with that arm, obviously, but Dan’s also been trained not to make assumptions on conditions.

“Phil,” he answers softly, and Dan watches as he pulls the corner of his lower lip into his mouth, biting down hard with his front teeth. He’s clearly anxious, but Dan can’t seem to figure out why.

“Okay Phil,” Dan says gently, “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I- I don’t want to be a burden, or take up time if I don’t need to. I know the doctors are so busy and- and I just-” he shrugs, “I can just go sleep it off and take some panadol…”

“Why don’t you tell me what your symptoms are, and I can help you decide if it’s something you need to have seen now, or something you can talk to your regular doctor about in the morning.”

Phil considers this for a moment, before he heaves a big breath, nodding and stepping up to the desk. He’s rather cute, Dan notices idly, but he’s in work mode and the thought doesn’t hang around long. Phil holds his wrist up and carefully, carefully pulls the fabric down.

It makes Phil gasp and, as the sleeve comes down, Dan sees why.

It’s clearly a severe break. His whole hand is twisted at the complete wrong angle, and it looks like he can’t even control it properly. It’s terribly swollen, the veins in his arm even more prominent on his pale skin.

“Oh my god,”

Dan’s not supposed to react that way, but it looks like someone took to his wrist with a metal beam. Phil doesn’t seem to be coping well with the pain, either. Dan can see the beads of sweat on his forehead and his pale face has got a distinctly green tinge to it.

“Let me get you some water, and I want you to take some deep breaths for me...” Dan says, wheeling over to the dispenser and filling a paper cup with the cool liquid. He passes it under the lip of his barrier, and Phil takes it with his good hand. He drinks it slowly and heaves a couple of breaths, before he starts to calm down.

“Okay, good,” Dan says, and he’s already booking Phil into the queue. He’s not top priority, but he’s pretty close, “I’m going to book you in to see a doctor as soon as we can, alright? That looks pretty bad. When did it happen?”

“Um, last night. At like, six?” he murmurs, and Dan can’t help but stare at him in surprise. Not wonder it’s so swollen.

“Why did you wait so long to come in?”

Phil flushes with embarrassment, but it’s better than the deathly pale he was a few minutes ago, “I don’t like talking to people.”

Dan understands immediately. Not to the same extent, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to deal with a severely broken bone for nine hours just because he couldn’t speak up, but- well, anxiety is tricky sometimes.

“I’m glad you were able to come in,” Dan says gently, “It can be hard sometimes.”

Phil nods slightly, and he must’ve tried wiggling his fingers or something because another wave of pain passes over his face and he breathes harshly.

“Hey,” Dan says softly, “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” he whimpers, and his teeth are out again, chewing into his bottom lip.

“Can I have your surname and date of birth please Phil? I want to get this in as soon as I can so we can get someone to see you.”

Dan takes down the details as Phil recites them, requesting a copy of his ID to check the details and spelling. 1987 - he’s twenty-five. Dan had put him at twenty-three in his head, so clearly his age recognition is slowly getting there. It was better than his first week, where he had thought a thirty-three year old was in her sixties. That did not go down well _at all_.

He continues to take down a couple of other details before sending Phil to go and sit again, trying not to appear too concerned for him. There are two other patients to go in before him.

Time seems to go even slower, now that Dan is waiting for something. His shift ends in half an hour, but he kind of wants to wait around to make sure that Phil doesn’t just leave. On one hand, he wants to prove he’s not just a jerk. On the other hand, he’s actually pretty concerned. He really needs to see someone about that wrist. Dan tries to keep himself busy with inane tasks, but he can’t help the way his eyes flick to Phil every so often.

Phil sits with his head tilted back, wrist cradled in his lap. It’s not often, but sometimes he goes back to trembling, perhaps when his wrist starts to throb. Dan just wants to help, but he’s not a professional _yet._  

Finally, after what seems like an age, Phil’s name is called and he flashes a grateful but anxious look to Dan. Dan nods back at him with a smile, encouraging him to go on, and Phil gets to his feet. He’s clearly hesitant, but he follows the doctor anyway, past the double doors to the examination rooms. Dan’s heart swells with concern and a bit of pride for him, startling when Candice - another receptionist - appears behind him.

“Out of my seat, sweetheart,” she says cheerfully, “Go home!”

“Oh, god, is it four already?”

“I’m afraid so. How was the night?”

“Same old, same old. It wasn’t bad. I’m up to date on filing now so good luck being bored.”

“On one hand…” she begins, “I don’t have to do filing. On the other hand, you’ve taken away the only interesting part of mundane nights…” she considers, “Hmm. It’s a win-lose situation here…”

He laughs, rolling his eyes as he packs himself up.

“Go get some sleep, okay?” she smiles brightly at him, “See you tomorrow?”

“Nope. Got a free weekend. Have a good shift.”

“Lucky! Thanks babe,” she says, blowing him a kiss as he leaves.

He heads to the locker room to grab his bag, but he can’t help thinking about Phil again. He looked so helpless and sick, and Dan couldn’t imagine having so much anxiety that he couldn’t talk to someone who was there to help him. He almost wants to stay to make sure that he’s okay-

No, Dan’s decided. He’s _going_ to stay to make sure he’s okay.

That’s all it is. Concern for a patient, following through and maybe 5% repenting for his terrible thoughts - he’s allowed to do that, right? It isn’t weird. Phil’s cute, but it isn’t about how cute he is. It’s simply about how upset he seemed, and how there was nobody else with him at A&E at four in the morning.

So Dan loiters at the exit to the examination rooms like a complete freak.

For some reason, the waiting didn’t occur to him at the time he committed to sticking around. Nor the fact that he now has to explain to every staff member exactly _why_ he’s still here after his shift has ended. He ends up getting distracted on his phone though, playing some old frogger game.

He’s so distracted he almost misses Phil walking past, and it’s lucky that he loses a level and looks up at the exact moment Phil rounds the corner.

“Oh!” he exclaims, getting to his feet, “Phil!”

The cast on Phil’s wrist is bright blue, which seems fitting for him. Dan beams brightly at him.

Phil only seems confused, “Uh, hi? Did I forget something?”

He’s no longer pale and shaking, and he looks significantly more relaxed than when he first came in.

“Oh, no,” suddenly Dan is embarrassed that he stayed, seeing this man who is clearly not as nervous as the man he met in the waiting room, “No, I- I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed really upset in the waiting room.”

It seems to take Phil a moment to process the words, but when he does, his face lights up for a second before glowing a brilliant red, gazing down at the ground, “Oh, really?”

Dan’s beginning to like that colour on him, “Yeah. Sorry if that’s weird. How did you go?”

“Not too bad. It hurt a bit at the time, but it’s alright now. Sorry I worried you - it’s just - I’m generally quite an anxious person in social situations, but combine that with pain and a gross arm and I’m utterly useless. ”

Dan laughs quietly, “No, that’s okay. ”

They lapse into an uncomfortable silence and Dan searches desperately for a way to fill it. He still feels really awkward, like he didn’t have the right to care so much. But… well. It wasn’t really about caring, he realises. It was about the cute guy that Dan just wanted to see smile.

“Would you like to-”

“Do you want to si-”

They both speak at the same time and it’s followed by an awkward laugh, both of them ducking their heads in embarrassment.

“You first,” Dan grins, and he’s weirdly happy that Phil seems to actually be okay. He does like that smile.  

Phil’s still chuckling, probably uncomfortable with their awkward encounter, and seemingly even more so with what he wants to say, “Um, it’s okay if you don’t want to- I just wanted to know if you maybe wanted to sign it? My cast? Since you did check me in and you waited around and- stuff?”

Dan’s eyes widen and he can’t help grinning widely, “Oh- that’s so cool. Are you sure?”

Phil just nods, biting his lip, “What were you going to say?”

“Oh- I was going to ask if you wanted to maybe get a coffee?” Dan asks, and he doesn’t mean to be shy but it happens anyway and he feels the anxiety spike in his chest, wanting to retract everything he’s ever said, “I mean, it’s five in the morning and you probably want some sleep-”

“I couldn’t sleep after this,” Phil interrupts, holding up his cast, “Coffee actually sounds pretty good right now. You can sign my cast over pastries?”

Dan can’t contain his grin and he practically feels all that anxiety melt away. He nods, “That sounds perfect.”

He’s still beaming as they leave the hospital, so much that Phil even has to ask if he’s okay.

So much for a slow morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Reblog [this fic](https://callofthecurlew.tumblr.com/post/178915588065/waiting-room) on Tumblr?  
> 


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